SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS. . .brought to you by. . . No Bull Mousse, the first aerosol hair styling product made especially for harsh range conditions. The spray is powerful (SPRAY) so you can use it even in windy conditions, and it keeps you looking attractively well-groomed even in rain (RAIN), hail (HAIL), thunderstorm (THUNDER AND LIGHTNING), tornado (TORNADO), cyclone (CYCLONE), stampedes (MOMENT OF TUMULT, SHOUTS, COWS, HORSES), attacks by buzzards (SFX), flash floods (TR: Look out! WATER RUSH), avalanches (RUMBLE), passing semis (TRUCK GOES PAST, HORN), or sleeping on rocks (SNORING). Just a couple of sprays (SPRAY- SPRAY) and your hair holds all day.

And now let's join Dusty and Lefty as they ride down the trail. .

(HORSE HOOVES, MOOS, OUTDOOR AMBIENCE)

TR: Phew.....(HAWK, SPIT) Wind's pickin up, wouldn't you say?

GK: Looking for a telegraph line. Got to be one out here somewhere.

TR: What you need a telegraph line for?

GK: Need it so I can plug in my saddletop computer and get the livestock prices from Denver.

TR: Can't wait til we hit Greasy Gulch. Get me a warm shower and head down to the saloon and find us some of them painted-up dance hall liberals and have us some rotgut whiskey.

GK: There's that telegraph line. Right over the other side of them boulders. (GIDDYAP. HORSE HOOVES) Shoot that line for me, Dusty. (RIFLE SHOT. WIRE TWANG) Thank you. Plug that right in here. (ELECTRICAL SHORT) Good. (CLICKS) Okay---- www-dot-cow--- O my gosh. Dagnab it.

TR: What is it?

GK: Cattle prices. Went down again.

TR: How bad is it?

GK: Well, let me put it this way, pardner. We're losing our shirts.

TR: That bad, huh.

GK: In effect, we are engaged in a recreational enterprise, Dusty.

TR: Some recreation. Eating dust all day. (HAWK, SPIT)

GK: According to this here computer, Dusty, we are paying dearly for the privilege of chaperoning these cattle. Beef is turning into a non-profit enterprise, like public radio. Someday, feed lots are going to have pledge weeks, and you'll call in and donate money to keep hamburgers alive.

TR: Guess we weren't the brightest lanterns in the barn now, were we----

GK: Kinda what you might call a meaningless existence....riding these horses across this empty plain....

TR: Wind blowing dirt in our faces....

GK: Driving cattle to their deaths....

TR: You remember Slim?

GK: Do indeed. The tall guy with the hair in his eyes.

TR: He got out of livestock and into the stock market.

GK: Where'd he go?

TR: California. Mill Valley.

GK: Mill Valley.

TR: Probably sitting in an outdoor restaurants eating grilled swordfish on a bed of arugula and drinking a white wines with an oak finish and a hint of vanilla, plum, and parsnips.

GK: I just don't understand it. Why? Why are we here? Why does God allow two people to lead such a miserable life? Why? And why is that chicken up ahead wearin a bandanna and a holster with a sixgun?

(LONE CHICKEN CLUCKING) (WHOAS. HORSES STOP. CHICKEN CLUCK)

TR: That chicken looks mean.

GK: Must be one of them free range chickens!

TR: I don't like the way it's looking at us.

GK: People say they're tasty but it's kinda wiry looking to me.

TR: There's another one.

GK: Where?

TR: Peakin out from behind that pinon tree. And look. Up there by that cactus.

GK: Feels like we're bein watched, don't it.

TR: Lookit how they never take their eyes off us for a second.

(SEVERAL CHICKENS CLUCKING)

GK: Turn around real slow, Dusty. I think there's a couple behind us.

TR: You're right. They got the drop on us. I think we're gonna have to make a run for it, pardner.

GK: There's a coupla boulders about fifty yards off to my right. Want to go for it?

TR: That chicken up there, his wing is sorta edging down toward his holster.

SS: Oh, chickens are harmless. Anyway, take it from me, boys. Beef is out-of-date. People think red meat, they think cholesterol, they think large sluggish people with IQs lower than room temperature. They think elevated triglycerides. High LDLs, low HDLs, and no MSEs.

TR: What's MSEs?

SS: Martha Stewart endorsements.

GK: Who is Martha Stewart?

SS: Boys, Martha Stewart is the spiritual leader of the state of Connecticut. She is the Episcopalian Mona Lisa. And Martha Stewart would no more serve red meat for dinner than she would make napkin holders out of toenail clippings.

GK: Well, I don't care about no Martha Stewart. I'm a cowboy, that's all there is to it.

TR: Maybe we ought to think about chickens, Lefty.

GK: Dusty, use your head, for goodness sake, just think --- chicken rodeos? Guys riding out of the chute and chasing a chicken to see if they can throw it down on the ground and tie up its feet in less than five seconds? Don't be ridiculous. We're cowboys.

TR: Cowboys with nothin but lint in our pockets. Look at her. Sitting pretty.--- That is one fine pair of boots, ma'am.

SS: They're crocodile. Well, gentlemen, it's been a pleasure talkin' with y'all. Time for me to move on. (BUZZ BUZZ) Get along you chickens. (WHOOPS) (CLUCKS) (FADING AWAY) (FOOTSTEPS ON DIRT)

Lovingly selected from the earliest archives of A Prairie Home Companion, this heirloom collection represents the music from earliest years of the now legendary show: 1974–1976. With songs and tunes from jazz pianist Butch Thompson, mandolin maestro Peter Ostroushko, Dakota Dave Hull and the first house band, The Powdermilk Biscuit Band (Adam Granger, Bob Douglas and Mary DuShane).